IOF
by Shinkou and Obi-chan
Summary: Infatuation, Obsession, Finalization. DxH A trilogy of sorts. Each is stand alone. Third part isn't out yet. haha. Summary: Harry is infatuated, Draco is obsessed, and they get together eventually.
1. Infatuation

Title: Infatuation

Author: Shinkou

Pairing: Draco/Harry (subtle, and maybe Harry/random-girl if you really want to)

Warnings: weird writing style (2nd person), might be hard to follow.... humor fic maybe, more of a contemplating fic.... yeah. o.O weird idea, but it was a concept that just popped into my head.

Summary: Someone's reading/analyzing Harry's thoughts. Or maybe it's just in his head. (seriously, I have no idea who's talking to him)

Author's notes: ah... yeah. spur-of-the-moment things. Oh and I have no idea what year he's in, or who the Ravenclaw girl is, or what year the Yule Ball takes place and stuff. o.O I just needed something to write there. yeah.

-----------------------------  
  
You were always the first to notice Malfoy.  
  
Like that one time, when you were deep in conversation with the Ravenclaw seventh year every boy wanted to tumble, at a table deep in the center of the library, with just a glimpse of the entranceway.  
  
She had the most gorgeous eyes, clear cerulean blue. Stunning, smashing, completely irresistible. And that beautiful hair. Sight alone suggested a sensation akin to the softest silk in the world. Imagine what it would feel like in reality. The color, too, was breathtaking. Oh that shimmering mass of sunlight, of pure gold shaped into precious strands of lovely, perfumed locks.  
  
But of course, blond hair had automatically reminded you of a certain annoying, moderately-large-prick-at-your-side Slytherin.  
  
Oh and do not forget, you always thought about Malfoy.  
  
Now that your attention had been successfully diverged, you began to wonder the exact texture and suppleness of your school rival's hair. You wondered if it would be softer, rougher, or lighter than the girl's in front of you, wondered if he took care of it just like her. Of course, in your mind, you believed that these thoughts only served as insults, because, obviously, guys never cared about hair.  
  
At least, not you. But then again, your hair is as tamable as, well, Voldemort. Maybe your rat nest will settle into the greatest hairstyle ever known to men the day old Voldie dies.  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
In any case, your attention was redirected when the beauty queen began to speak. She asked what you were looking at. You replied that her hair was quite bewitching. She giggled at the little pun, and it was like crisp jingling bells on a summer day.  
  
But you did not notice, for a distinct and, only to you, unique footstep was drawing nearer, just outside of the library door.  
  
You turn in your chair, and gray eyes locked with green. A second. Eternity. A sneer. A glare. And the mood was broken.  
  
Malfoy strolled lazily toward you, his steps light and measured. Beside him came the thump thump of his thugs, slightly too slow to keep up and slightly too wide to fit between the bookshelves. Your eyes followed his every movement, up to the opening of his lips to drawl out an insult.  
  
"Really, Potter, brainwashing innocent girls again? If you really feel the need to impress someone, do restrain yourself to mudbloods and Weasleys, will you?" He glided beside the Ravenclaw and picked up her hand gracefully. "Beauties like these are reserved for people with higher intelligence and status."  
  
He kissed her hand. She blushed. You pushed your chair back angrily without knowing which caused the reaction. The girl stood up as well, surprised. She glanced from Malfoy back to you, then promptly snatched her hand from his grasp and ran out the door.  
  
Your glare intensified, still angry for the same unknown reason. "I can always trust a Malfoy to send girls running out the door," you spat out.  
  
He smirked. "If I remembered correctly, you were the one who stood up too fast and frightened her sensitive nerves." His thugs snorted with mirth.  
  
Suddenly you noticed a strand of blond hair falling out of his perfection, not enough to disrupt but enough to be observed, and your thoughts were violently thrown back into the track of your earlier contemplation. You tightened your fists, and you could feel the red of anger creeping into your face.  
  
At least, that was what you perceived it as.  
  
"Your childish nagging annoys me," you said, "and thanks to you, Malfoy, I've lost a possible date to the Yule ball." Standing up, you grabbed your books and headed for the door before he could retort.  
  
Yet his voice found a way into your ears the way it always did. "The only dates you can get are my rejects, Potter," followed by a short little laugh.  
  
His eyes burned you all the way out to the door.  
  
You were always the first to notice Malfoy. Oh and do not forget, you always thought about Malfoy. Some might say that your actions resembled infatuation, but of course you would deny that to the grave.  
  
However...  
  
If you had realized that your feelings were not one-sided, that there was much more to those sneering, insulting words, would you have denied it then?  
  
......  
  
I thought not.

fin. (or is it? hm....)

side note: these are all basically stand alone fics.


	2. Obsession

Title: Obsession

Author: Shinkou

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Warning: weird writing style (2nd person), might be hard to follow.... humor fic maybe, more of a contemplating fic.... yeah. o.O weird idea, but it was a concept that just popped into my head.

Summary: Draco's obsessed and he doesn't know it. Side fic (I guess) to Infatuation.

Author's notes: ah... since I had the Harry fic, I decided to make a Darco version of it. Also! Thanks soooo much to Yoake-chan for helping me with the new ending!

-------------------------------  
  
You were always preoccupied with Potter.  
  
Some might say that you were so fixated on him that other duties were forgotten.  
  
Your eagle owl swooped down and landed on the bedpost, sticking one clawed feet out towards you. You stared at the unmistakable seal on the letter and felt your heart sink with dread.  
  
Damn Potter got you again.  
  
With lightly trembling hands you took the letter, opening it as your owl soared away.  
  
Son,  
I have not received your daily letters for the fifth time this month,  
and I am disappointed. If this is due to your schoolwork, then I  
suggest you take some time off socializing. You do not need any more  
useless followers, for what is most important is the one you follow:  
me. If the lack of reports is due to other distractions, I suggest you  
exterminate the distracters immediately. Forgetfulness is not allowed  
and certainly does not honor the Malfoy name, so rest assured, you will  
be punished should this habit continue. I expect a full explanation  
without delay.  
Your father,  
LM  
PS. Your mother misses you.  
  
At first the ugly claws of guilt and shame squeezed your heart, then they turned into red furious anger. You crumbled the expensive paper and ignited it.  
  
Damn Potter! If it weren't for that cheeky little Gryffindor, your father would never have been disappointed. You would have had time to write all the missed letters, describing in sweet details how you tortured The-Boy- Who-Lived and his pet weasels, artfully bypassing the explanations. You would have honored the Malfoy name. It was all Potter's fault!  
  
Of course, not that he knew about it.  
  
Every night, after finishing your work, you would lie in bed and plan out your Potter torture routine for the coming morning. Or at least it was what you intended to do, when most of the time you ended up analyzing the different aspects of your archrival.  
  
In these moments, sometimes you would get so carried away that you, shamefully, forgot to report to your father. Like yesterday. You tightened your lips and narrowed your eyes, feeling the anger boiling your blood.  
  
This meant double the suffering tomorrow, Potter.  
  
Suddenly you remembered what was in store the following night, and your tight frown turned into a lazy, calculating sneer. Oh yes, Potter will suffer under your merciless hands.  
  
In your glee, you forgot to reply to your father's letter.  
  
But do not forget, you always thought about Potter.  
  
With an once-over in front of the mirror, you strolled smugly out of the dorms and into the common room, thinking all the while about the faces Potter would make after you were done with him. An evil chuckle escaped your lips.  
  
"Crabb! Goyle!" You called out. The two stood up, one sluggishly and the other slightly off balance. Sad really, the state of their physical fitness. But what did you expect? Their body masses were unevenly distributed from birth. You laugh silently at the fact that Potter and his pets felt intimidated by them.  
  
With a jerk of your neck, you signaled them over, and they obeyed like the loyal dogs they were.  
  
"So, uh, Draco. What're we gonna do to Potter today?" Vincent grunted out.  
  
You jumped the slightest bit, frightened for a moment that Vince had somehow acquired the ability to read minds. Your eyes narrowed and you seethed, "What makes you think we're out to harass Potter?"  
  
"Well, uh," the thug mumbled, confusion printed across his face, "we always go and uh, harass Potter." Beside him Gregory nodded furiously in agreement.  
  
Draco gave them both a menacing stare, then dropped the topic. He leaned against a table and glared at the occupants of his self-entitled sofa until they hurried away. "We're not going after Potter today, at least, not directly." You leered at no one in particular. No one in the room, in any case.  
  
Deep down inside you knew the look was directed at Potter, wherever he was.  
  
Your cronies guffawed loudly, although you seriously doubt they understood your words. You shrugged. After all, they were not made for intelligent conversations.  
  
Potter, on the other hand, was. You had heard him talk to the Mudblood. What a shame that whenever he conversed with you, it was always insults. Always with that look, dripping with hatred. No amiable wittiness and laughter.  
  
Not that you wanted that, of course.  
  
Of course.  
  
"--co? Draco?" Gregory's pitiful excuse for a voice drifted into your ears.  
  
"What?" You snapped, annoyed more at yourself for drifting off than anything.  
  
"You drifted off there," Vincent read your mind once more.  
  
"No I didn't," you lied, "I'm trying to put my directions into words you idiots can understand. Now," you continued before they could reply, "I want you two to go get that Ravenclaw girl Potter was talking to yesterday. Get her and bring her to the library at the same place we saw them. I'll be waiting there. You got that?"  
  
There were blank faces. You sighed loudly. Suddenly Crabb's eyes lighted up.  
  
"Oh! You mean that uh, pretty girl?" Grunt grunt.  
  
"I remember her! The really pretty, really pretty girl!" Snicker snort snort.  
  
You sighed once more. Here lied the exact reason why dogs didn't talk. Magnitude could only be expressed with repetition. All forms of language were useless except the primitive conversational techniques of Neanderthals. Which, of course, was like a dog's, and that brought you back to the start.  
  
Or, rather, it brought you back to Potter, since you had started analyzing him once again.  
  
If your memory served, Potter had a very distinct voice and accent that anyone, or perhaps just you, could pick out in a crowd without hesitation.  
  
You were deep in thought, as usual, when your thugs stumbled their way out of the dungeons. You glanced at their disappearing figures and snickered silently.  
  
Clumsy little fools. And Potter always thought that they were trying to be menacing.  
  
You were always preoccupied with Potter. Some might say that you were so fixated on him that other duties were forgotten. But do not forget, you always thought about Potter. Observers, had there been any, would have called it an obsession, but you, of course, would call them liars.  
  
You have read the dictionary back when you were young, and you knew what the word meant.  
  
Ob-ses-sion: n: A persistent, recurring, involuntary thought, image, or impulse that invades consciousness and causes great distress.  
  
That didn't describe you, of course. Because you did not have persistent, recurring, involuntary thoughts about Potter. Because thoughts of him did not invade your consciousness. Because those thoughts did not cause you great distress.  
  
Of course not.  
  
Although, had Potter looked at you differently, you would not have had to be in denial.  
  
....  
  
You know I'm right.

fin. (or is it? probably not....)

side note: forgive me for the Goyle and Crabbe bashing . I don't really mean it.


End file.
